


The Subcon of a Prince

by EvanelleOnyx



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanelleOnyx/pseuds/EvanelleOnyx
Summary: What lies inside the mind of the brokenhearted prince, who suffered Queen Vanessa's jealousy at the cost of his own life? After he meets his fate, his broken spirit carries on through the madness, doubt, anger and blame that is his Subcon.Additional art for this fic can be foundhere on tumblr.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 104





	1. Her Prince

Sunlight beamed through the leaves of a forest and glanced in through the windows of a lavish carriage that slowly rolled down a cobble path, its two ivory horses blithely trotting along. The light inside hit the pages of a comically large book perched atop the knee of the sole occupant of the cabin. He was a young man clad in red and decked in the finery of royalty, who traced his finger across the small lines of text with a perturbed expression darkening his otherwise soft face. The driver turned around to glimpse his passenger, “Are you quite alright, your highness?”

The prince jumped a little, but kept his finger in his place on the page. “Yes- yes, of course.” He regained his composure with a breath and straightened the slightly displaced crown on his head with his free hand. “It’s just… this chapter is rather vexing.”

The driver cocked an eyebrow questioningly to the prince, then turned his attention back to the road.

“It deals with Subcon’s laws regarding magic, specifically in this section: misuse by the royal family. In practice, it’s rather cut and dry actually. Solid lines not to cross, easy to follow. Simple for a law of such magnitude I suppose-” the prince caught himself rambling with a wide-eyed expression, “Pardon me. It’s more vexing in that I have a hard time envisioning the law ever being needed. I mean to say, that any of the royal family would ever break it. I mean my prin, ah, Queen Vanessa, wouldn’t hurt a fly, I’m sure.”

The prince blushed at his mistake, after his love lost her mother, he had never quite gotten used to addressing her as queen. She was always his princess, and he couldn’t see that ever changing in his mind, her proper title be damned. She would be his princess to him until he was her king. That, unfortunately, couldn’t carry to outside conversations.

The driver laughed, ignoring his slip, “Ah but Prince Brendan, studied as you are, you know these rules must exist to protect the people, even if we all truly believe the fair Queen has all of our best interests at heart.” The driver leaned over slightly, checking a sign as they passed. “Ah, good. We should arrive in the village within the hour. You best get reading if you intend to finish the chapter before your beloved whisks you away, your highness.”

The prince looked through the window at the sign as they passed, sure enough it was one he knew well, a marker at a fork which led to two towns, about an hour from Subcon Village. “Ah. My thanks!” He buried himself in his book again, determined to finish the chapter prior to his arrival. Time spent with Vanessa since he began his studies had been more frantic than before, and he loathed the idea of leaving the chapter unfinished for days on end.

Vanessa paced back and forth in the bedroom of her manor, had she taken care of everything? Was it all perfect for her dear prince’s arrival? She went back over all of her belongings. Her diary was stowed safely away, the spare pages she’d written on… She blushed furiously, determined that her dear prince would not discover the depths at which she pined for his attention. She would have her fairytale, her lovely prince and he would never… She shuddered at her thoughts. Her dear prince would never know the accident that had brought him to her.

No matter how his faithfulness plagued her thoughts, how jealous she was of everything in his life, he had always come back. She repeated that to herself, he had always come back. Surely, that meant his feelings were true after all. She absently paced through her bedroom door and wandered through the halls, not paying much attention to where she went. She wondered if she would ever shake the specter of that day. How could she have been so stupid, so blind. She wanted her fairytale life so badly, how could she have known that merely wanting for something would-

Her thoughts were broken by the voice of one of her servants calling from the lower floor. “Queen Vanessa!” the voice echoed up, causing her to startle. “Queen Vanessa, we must depart for the village! The prince is set to arrive this hour!” Her eyes shot open wide and hand flew one to her crown, and one to her skirt, which she lifted to run in a most unladylike fashion down the stairs.

She ran almost all the way down the stairs. She caught herself at the bottom and poised herself to make an entry befitting a queen before her servant. It would all be fine, she told herself. Her prince, her dear prince, was arriving back in Subcon Village. He’d stay for her, surely, he would finally dispel her doubts about his loyalty to her and he’d devote himself to their love the way she’d always envisioned, and the shadow on her heart would finally dissipate. She was, after all, so very tired of the cold feeling of being separate from her love.

The prince gently shut his book and sighed, looking up to see the carriage had just entered the village. “Ah, thank heavens,” he sighed, “Just in time.”

“Oh,” his driver chuckled, “End of the chapter, then? Congratulations, your highness, you’ll have a clear mind to focus on your betrothed.”

A sly grin crossed the prince’s face as he caught the driver’s tone. “Oh, you wouldn’t be sassing your prince, would you Cian?”

The driver laughed heartily. “I wouldn’t dream of it, your highness,” he replied as he matched the prince’s grin.

The carriage pulled to a halt in the village square, where several of the magical guards were already in place to keep the crowd of villagers at bay along the walkway, on the far end of the path, the prince could just see her, the green of her dress and the golden glint of her crown, the warmth of her hair. Undeniably, there his princess awaited him. He took a deep breath and turned to the driver. “Can you please have this book delivered to my quarters here? I’ll need it to keep up with my lessons.”

The driver nodded, and the prince turned and opened the carriage door. He was always amazed by the glittering aura of Subcon Village, and today was no different. The pristine square sparkled with the faintest air of magic. Children played with the colorful animal masks that were popular in the region, both as toys and as good-luck charms. With practiced grace, the prince descended the step from the cabin and walked the guarded path. He regarded the welcoming villagers warmly as they cheered his return, though his eyes always returned to the star of the scene for him. At every opportunity as he made his approach, he regarded his princess with a loving smile, until finally he was able to meet her in the center of the square and take her by the hands.

“Welcome home, my prince.” Vanessa’s honeyed voice graced his ears and his heart fluttered, it had been entirely too long.

“I’m glad to be back, my-” he caught himself, “Queen Vanessa.” He watched with a pang of guilt as Vanessa’s eyes darkened momentarily from the use of her proper title. He made a note to himself to do something extra special for his poor bride-to-be during his visit. The responsibility of leadership had weighed heavily on her heart, he could see it in her eyes every time he had to address her by title.

Vanessa smiled warmly in the town square as her prince approached. For all the warmth of her smile, her heart still felt hard and cold. Her prince was taking his time, regarding the villagers. He looked to her occasionally, but he spent such an eternity regarding the people he passed. Silently, she begged him to throw tradition and decorum to the side and run to her. To see only her, to ignore the rest of the scene and pay attention to only the needs of his fairytale princess.

After what felt like an eternity of watching him make his way up the path, her prince was finally with her in the center of the square. He took her hands, and her world shrank instantly to a little bubble occupied only by her handsome prince and herself. “Welcome home, my prince.” She said softly, blissfully. He was here, and she’d never miss him again.

“I’m glad to be back, my-” The prince stopped and corrected himself and Vanessa’s heart sank like a rock in her chest as he failed to finish their usual greeting, “Queen Vanessa.” She was his princess! She hated her proper title deeply, and she felt the ice settle back on her heart. She feigned a smile for the rest of the royal arrival event, she just wanted to get home and be alone with her prince at last. Just when she was sure her patience would break, the event was done, and she and her prince were finally able to leave.

The short carriage ride to her manor was a blissful reprieve from her cold feelings as her dear prince regaled her with tales of how deeply he had missed her smile while he was away, and how happy it made him to hear her voice. He also talked of his studies, unfortunately. That part she feigned happiness through, though she loathed that it took his thoughts away from her. She made a mental note to find any law books he had brought along and hide them in the manor, maybe burn them. Anything to keep his attention fixed upon her.

At long last, they arrived at her manor. When they stepped inside, the prince closed the door behind them, and Vanessa stopped herself from reaching around him to lock the doors. To her delight, she found she needn’t force the situation to get his undivided attention.

He sprinted from the door, his crown comically bounced off of his head from his sudden movement. He half-heartedly tried to grab it, but when it bounced in his hands he abandoned it to the floor and continued his lunge towards Vanessa. He scooped her up into his arms, lifting her giggling into the air to spin her around. Vanessa barely saved her own crown from clattering to the floor as she laughed.

"Oh, my princess!" The prince laughed, putting her down and kissing her on the forehead.

"But, that's no longer-" Vanessa protested.

"I don't care!" The prince interjected, pulling her into another embrace, "I know you prefer to be my princess, and my princess you shall be!"

Vanessa tensed in his arms. "But earlier-"

The prince stopped her. "Earlier we were in front of your people, and I had to follow the rules of royalty making public appearances. Here, we are alone. The law of this house is our happiness, and you, my love, are most happy as my princess."

Vanessa laughed as she felt tears well up in her eyes, leaning deeply into her beloved prince's arms. For the first time since he had left to begin his studies, her prince was home and she felt whole and warm again. She would never let him go.

Clouds covered the sun that day. The young girl had always thought Subcon Forest looked abysmal in the dark, and the low light reflected her mood. Tears flowed from her eyes and dripped onto her petite green dress. Alone, she sprinted down the path to the old well. Her footfalls clattered on the wooden walkways through the wetlands.

It would have been beautiful if she weren’t crying, flowers of every color sprouted from the surface of the water. She passed them all by, finally reaching the well and clambering to the top, taking care to mess up her dress as much as possible out of spite. At the top of the well, she dried her eyes and stared into its depths.

She was sure she was too young to have to deal with what was asked of her. She was already grieving the loss of her father, why would mother also put the stress of meeting the man she was supposed to marry on her now? More stubborn, angry tears forced their way out of her eyes. She remembered a story she had been told by one of the servants in the castle. If you threw a pon in the well and made a wish, your wish would come true.

“I wish… that I could have a fairytale life with a loving prince, like in the storybooks,” She whispered, dropping a single pon into the well. She watched it drop, listening for the splash of it hitting the water at the bottom.

“Oh!” the voice of a boy about her age startled her and she almost fell into the well, but before she could even see him, he was pulling her back upright. “Oh no! I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! Are you okay?! I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else here!”

She winced, waiting for this boy to recognize her as the princess. “Well, I wasn’t expecting there to be anyone else here either,” she replied crossly, “that’s why I ran here.”

The boy looked at her with curiosity. “You ran here too? Are you hiding?”

His innocence was completely disarming. “I- Yes. Are you?” She asked, leaning in closer to him.

The boy hesitated, sitting down on the wall of the well and kicking his feet. “I… yes, I am.” His gaze wandered out across the swamp. “I’m a visitor from another land. I was brought here by my family, but I don’t want to go with them.” The boy kicked his feet and fidgeted with the buttons of his red vest.

The girl laughed, if he was foreign, he wouldn’t know she was the princess! She smiled at him, “So, we’ve run away for the same reason! I also don’t want to do what my family is asking!” She straightened her dress a little and smiled at him, feeling already more comfortable with his company. “I’m Vanessa. What’s your name?”

The boy grinned back at her, “My name is Brendan.”


	2. The Sun and the Moon

The sun rose on the first full day the prince would spend back with his love and filtered in through the manor windows. He threw the curtains open and let the sunlight flood the room. The scene outside was every bit as beautiful as the village had been the day prior. The glimmering air sat gently over the lush lawn of the manor and caught the last lingering pinks and golds of the sunrise. He took a deep breath, feeling the refreshing chill of the morning through the windowpane. Breakfast was soon, though, and he still hadn’t buttoned his coat fully for the day.

He made his way down to the kitchen once he deemed himself presentable, and found his beloved awaiting him with a beautiful meal laid out in front of her. “Did you do this all yourself?” He gasped, not having seen any servants in the manor. Vanessa nodded, and the prince practically flew over to her to brush the hair away from her eyes and kiss her on the forehead.

“You’re fabulous, my princess!” he proclaimed, taking his seat across the table from her. He filled his plate and dug in, complimenting her cooking the whole meal. He hugged her when the meal was over, and brushed the hair from her eyes to see them clearly as he held her.

Vanessa had gotten up early to make her prince his breakfast. It was part of her grand plan, she would make sure every experience her prince had while he was home was above and beyond what he could possibly want. Her plan worked too well. Her prince was too enamored with his breakfast, she was jealous of the very food she had cooked. She had never known it was possible to be jealous of a pitiful strip of bacon, but the icy feeling clenched around her heart nonetheless.

She determined before he was finished that there would not be a single strip of bacon left in her manor by the next morning. While pretending to smile, she tightly clenched her fork and picked at her food stiffly. Her prince, when he was finished, did pull her close to him and hold her in a heavenly embrace. She was realizing more and more how his attention was not enough. The cold feeling in her heart grew if she had less than one hundred percent of his attention.

Their royal duties that day took them on a tour of the village, alternately going on foot and by carriage through the village and countryside. As they bounced down a heavily shaded road, the prince glanced out the carriage window. “I always found this part of Subcon Forest beautiful,” he commented, then turned to her, “though nowhere near as beautiful as you are, my love.”

Vanessa smiled at the compliment and reached out to grab his hands. “Really?” she asked, “I always found this part of the forest… a bit dreary.” She cast a melancholy look out the window. “I only ever came out this far because mother put your quarters before you were able to stay in the manor all the way out here. I’ll never understand how you could stand being so far away.”

The prince laughed and smiled at her, “Easy, I simply read my books and practiced my playing.” He gave her a playful grin and grabbed her hand, “Of course, these were all only distraction tactics, otherwise I would have been running down the path to the manor to see you.”

The prince laughed, “You saw me in the manor yesterday, if I took off like that every evening, I would have been disowned years ago for losing too many crowns in the bushes along the path. Can you imagine the expense?!”

Vanessa was unsatisfied with his answer, gave him a half-hearted smile and looked deep into his eyes. “My Prince… will you stay with me?” She gripped his hands tightly, “Just please, don’t go back to your studies! I can’t bear these long absences!” Her face fell.

The prince inhaled sharply, he had actually already made arrangements to extend his holiday to a month, but he had wanted to tell his love the next day. “Well, you know it’s part of my royal duty to complete my studies.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but gave her a hopeful, thoughtful glance. “Perhaps… Perhaps I can try to pull some strings, have some extra books sent to your library. I am ahead in my studies, perhaps my presence can be spared.”

Vanessa smiled, but the doubt clawed at her heart again. They finished their tour, and on returning to the manor they spent their evening together. With her world down to only her prince, Vanessa was temporarily content again. When her prince retired to bed for the evening, she wrote two notes to herself. The first was merely a vent about the prince’s overenthusiasm over his breakfast. The second was eye-opening, even for Vanessa. In the face of her prince possibly leaving again to his entirely too far away studies, she found herself wondering if it could be acceptable to keep a man in chains.

The next morning Prince Brendan was up before the sun. The full moon illuminated his path wonderfully as he made his way quietly to the village marketplace. He stopped a few times along the way, admiring the way the soft blue-white light filtered through the trees. He wished his princess was with him to enjoy the view. He had long thought of the two of them a little like the sun and moon, when he waxed poetic. He thought himself as the moon, gracefully reflecting the light of Vanessa’s sun, so that she could appreciate not only her beauty, but the beauty she inspired in the world.

As the sun chased the last stars from the sky, he arrived in the market square. He had a few specific goals in mind: a cake to celebrate his extended stay, and the loveliest bouquet of flowers he could find. The cake took entirely too long to arrange. The baker spent too much time fussing over having a royal client. Though he had left a note in case his errand ran long, he worried that Vanessa would wake alone and be distressed by his absence.

When he arrived at the florist, a young woman was tending the shop. She greeted him warmly before noticing the crown on his head. The florist began down the same overexcited track the baker had before. “You’re the prince!” She exclaimed, “You came to my shop to purchase flowers for Queen Vanessa?! Such a high honor for a humble shop such as mine!” 

Prince Brendan raised his hands slightly in defeat. “Please, I will most certainly be late to surprising the queen with the news of my extended visit. The baker took positively forever to get an order placed.”

The florist apparently knew the baker, and nodded. She quickly assembled a lovely bouquet, which the prince reached to pay for and take. As soon as the flowers were solidly in hand, he heard a gasp in the nearby alley and the clattering of women’s shoes on the pavement. He and the florist looked up sharply, and he was certain he saw the glint of a golden crown and a blur of green gown.

“Vanessa?!” He called, forgetting acting like a prince and leaping over the florist’s carts. “Vanessa!” He chased her to the Manor, confirming his suspicion that it was his love he was following. Panting from exertion and grasping his crown to keep it from falling, he made his way inside to find out what was wrong.

The queen looked down upon her precocious daughter, “You’re incredibly happy today, princess Vanessa, did something change?”

“Yes, mother, I’m feeling much happier!” The young princess danced around the queen, a completely different person from the little girl who had run away only the day before. “Prince Brendan is much better than I thought he would be! My wish came true!”

“Oh?” The queen asked slowly, “You made a wish? Is that where you ran away to yesterday?”

The princess stopped dancing and stood frozen.

“Yes, princess Vanessa, I knew about your little escape. So you went to the well then. This is a very serious matter and I must know, what did you wish for?”

The young girl looked at her mother with fearful eyes, “I - I wished that I could live a fairytale life with a prince who loves me!”

The queen reeled back and looked at her daughter with a terrifyingly serious expression. “Princess Vanessa!” she admonished, “This is an inexcusable error! You should know well the laws of magic, no-one, especially not a royal of Subcon, may cast a spell that would cause another to fall in love with them! We must undo this affront to our kingdom at once.”

The young princess’ face was a mask of pure terror as the queen let a series of sparks from her hands into the air. “There,” the queen said at last, “no damage done, I believe, and your little prince should be free, if we’re lucky. You are still a magical criminal from this day forth. As such, you will face a criminal’s punishment.”

As the queen’s shadow engulfed the small princess’ form, the girl meekly cowered, too frightened even to run.


	3. The Storm

Vanessa pulled the curtain shut on her bedroom window and lit a candle. She was up far, far earlier than her preference and had no desire to bask in the cold light the moon still offered her. The sun would come soon, the first pink light of dawn threatened the eastern skies, but until then she would exist by candlelight.

She shuddered as she remembered the last moonlight walk she had taken with her prince, before he had left for his horrid studies. He had talked and talked about the moon, the moonlight. It was infuriating, to think her prince was so easily distracted from her. By what? A floating rock! She paced away from the window, still lost in thought.

Finding herself at the vanity, she absently brushed her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. What was she doing wrong? Was she not beautiful enough? Did she not devote herself fully to her prince? The speed and intensity of the strokes of the brush in her hair increased. Did she not make captivating conversation? Was she not his ideal match?

She ran the brush violently through her hair, it caught on a tangle and it snapped in her hand as she yelped in pain. The head of the brush stayed stuck in her hair, and she dropped the handle to the floor. She glowered at her reflection, prying the head of the brush from her hair and tenderly attending to the now intensely tightened knot. The twisted strands took many agonizing minutes to straighten, the knotted hairs made her silhouette monstrous.

When she finally freed her hair from the tangles, she slammed the broken head of the brush down on the vanity, glaring at herself in the mirror. There was no problem with her. The problem was her prince! He wouldn’t dedicate himself to her properly! He should attend to her needs, should pay attention to her. He should pay attention to only her. She reached for her crown from the vanity, delicately placing it upon her head.

She left her bedroom and started walking towards the Prince’s room, but stopped short in the hallway. No, he was probably still asleep. She would make his breakfast again, something less distracting, like oatmeal. She would wake him after. Her thoughts swirled darkly as she toiled in the kitchen.

In spite of herself, her mind kept going back to the bleak fantasy she had concocted the day before. It would be so easy, just keep him locked up and his attention would never wander again. She could make him utterly dependent on her, she would be his everything. His breath, his food and drink, his dream and nightmare. She could have it all.

Vanessa tried to no avail to dispel the fantasy. The cold clawing feeling in her heart came back every time she pushed the fantasy away, as if to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. In any case, she couldn’t lock him up for no reason. No, she would have to let him continue as he was. She could only indulge that fantasy if she found he was truly unfaithful to her.

With the breakfast ready, she walked back up to the prince’s room and knocked on the door. Hearing no answer, she pushed the door open. Her heart plummeted as she looked through the doorway to see an empty bed in an empty room. Her prince was gone. Her fearful eyes landed on a piece of paper left on the windowsill. In a panic, she ran to the page, crumpling it horribly in her haste to bring it into view.

The unmistakable tidy print of her prince laid out a simple message:

My princess,

I have gone into the village to gather a few things for the day. It is my hope to return before you awake, but I have left you this letter in the event you wake and find me still absent. I love you, and I shall see you very soon.

From your prince

Vanessa gripped the note tightly enough that it hurt her hands, eventually tearing it in two as teardrops began to smudge the ink. Thoughtlessly, the queen walked down the stairs and out the doors. She walked down the path to the village, no longer hiding her dark mood outside the manor. The sun was fully up now, and the air slowly warmed in its rays. The warmth could not reach her, though. The icy feeling in her heart made her feel cold, from the inside out.

She walked like a thunderstorm, slowly approaching the village in a dark cloud all her own. She did not find her prince in the square, nor in the marketplace at first. She began patrolling the village alleys, and that was when she saw him. That she saw them. The storm in her heart broke free, and she felt colder than ever. Her prince was with another woman, holding hands, giving her flowers. She felt her world close in around her and all she could see was his betrayal.

Vanessa gasped, and turned to run. She ran first in anger and grief, hearing her prince call out behind her. Each step closer to her manor, though, lead her into a new realization. With every step forward, tears dried and were replaced with cold determination. She now had a reason, a justification for her dark fantasy. She would never be without him again.

She burst through the doors of her manor, wordlessly activating the magical guards in the house as she entered. They did not move yet, awaiting their queen’s orders. The doors burst open again behind her and she heard her prince pant her name.

“V-vanessa…”

She turned to face him with her head down, so that her eyes were darkened by shadow. “How long were you going to keep *her* from me? Your little girlfriend in the village? First it was your tutor, now this flower woman. I’m done playing, my prince.

The prince’s face went pale, eyes wide with shock as he looked at her. “You mean… The Florist?” He asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Realization of her mistake rocked Vanessa to her core, followed immediately by the harrowing realization that her prince knew now that she didn’t trust him. He knew that she couldn’t trust him. She turned away, clutching her chest as the icy feeling inside bloomed anew.

“My princess, please calm your fears,” the prince begged, “I wanted to make a surprise of it, but I’ve already arranged for an extension of my holiday. I am not to head back to my studies for the next month!”

Vanessa did not hear him, she couldn’t register anything over the sound of her heart screaming in her chest. “You’ll never leave me again.” she whispered, clutching her hands over her heart.

“Of course I wo-” The prince begins, only to be cut off by the sound of Vanessa shouting.

“Take him!”

The magical guards sprang into action, and the prince was carried away to the cellar, still screaming for his princess to listen. Vanessa did not hear him. The queen heard only her heart’s own screaming. It berated her for her idiotic mistake, thinking her prince was cheating when he was buying flowers for her. It loudly praised her for her excuse to keep the prince to herself.

As the cellar doors closed, she felt the ice in her heart surge forward. Her mouth curled into a wicked grin, her eyes flew open with the faintest glow of red behind them. She took a step towards the cellar, leaving a trail of frost in her wake.

_An excerpt from the Law of Subcon series of textbooks, designed to familiarize advanced students with the finer facets of the kingdom’s governance:_

Magical infraction is serious, and can incur serious consequence. It is however possible, especially in the case of accidental magical infraction (or infraction by minors), to remove the effects of an unlawful spell. A spell whose effects have been negated may cause minimum or no punishment, as applicable to the case and trial by law, as outlined in chapter 5.1.

To have a magical effect removed, seek one who is trained in the removal of magical effects. (In a typical province, the judge or governing body will be trained in such arts.) If a magical effect is dispelled, a wisp of magic will be created by the practitioner that travels to the subject, regardless of distance, and unbinds the spell affecting them. In the case that no magic exists to be unbound, this spell will fail and manifest as sparks. (This makes the dispelling magic also useful in determining the presence of a magical effect.)


	4. Ice and Shadow

"Vanessa!" The prince shrieked, the cold hands of the magical guards grasping him too tightly as he struggled against them. "Vanessa what are you doing? I just wanted to surprise you! Vanessa?!" She did not move as the constructs carried him kicking and screaming to the cellar. He had never been to the cellar of the manor, he had never had reason to. The scent of musty stones and old wooden barrels filled his nose as the guards carried him down the steps, their rough fingers left bruises on his chest, and in team-carrying him they painfully stretched his back.

The prince's eyes had no time to adjust to the dark before he felt himself being slammed against the wall. The force toppled the crown from his head and knocked the wind out of him, making him unable to breathe for several long seconds as the guards worked around him. Shackles were clapped around his arms and chains tightened around his torso, until finally he was left wheezing on the edge of consciousness, desperately fighting chains and deflated lungs for breath.

When he finally got the air back into his lungs, the guards were long gone. "Vanessa!" He called desperately, "Vanessa please!" He writhed in his chains, desperately trying to get free, but it was no use, and his movement only earned him more pain and new bruises as chains settled and bit into skin.

"Vanessa!" He called one last time, breaking into tears. As he sobbed, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, ever so slowly. A familiar voice called out to him, but it was wrong.

"My prince," Queen Vanessa called out, her voice echoing hollowly in the barren cellar, "don't worry, my dear, I will make sure you are well cared for." She giggled, her laughter left the prince feeling empty and unnerved.

Nonetheless, he called to her, "Vanessa, please, let me go! You don't want to do this!”

The staccato footfalls drew closer and the prince could see two specks of red light floating where her eyes should be in the dim light. Wordlessly, he felt an incredibly cold hand stroke his face, tracing the contour from his eyes around to his chin. Her touch hurt, his bitter tears freezing around her fingers as she went. He flinched back, could this really be his princess, his Vanessa?

“Oh, my prince,” Vanessa cooed, “I do want to do this. Your attention has been far, far too wild of late. Here, you will pay attention only to me.”

The comment struck the prince silent, no longer able to protest. His head hung limp as he drew shallow breaths against the force of the chains on his chest. His feet couldn’t reach the floor, the weight of his body slowly bit the chains deeper into his chest, his shoulders began to ache and he started to lose feeling in his arms beyond the shackles.

He finally managed to speak, “My princess, I went out to arrange a surprise for you.”

The queen simply smiled, he could finally see her face in the dim light, and kissed his forehead. She turned to leave, panic setting in on the captive prince. "Vanessa!" He shouted, straining painfully against the chains, "Vanessa please!" He continued to scream as she ascended the stairs, slowly and gracefully. He kept screaming after her, not stopping when the cellar doors closed.

His voice was hoarse when the cellar doors opened again. By this point, he was sure he was still dreaming. Convincing himself this was an elaborate nightmare. He looked up to see the red eyes descending the steps again, the light from upstairs highlighting the green of her dress and glinting off of her golden crown. He had lost the feeling in his arms beyond the shackles, and he was shaking still with adrenaline. He wanted out, he wanted to fight, but every motion against the chains just made new bruises, and he was fairly certain he’d already rubbed raw the places the chains touched his skin.

“I’ve brought your breakfast, my prince!” Vanessa cooed. As she came closer he could see she was carrying a bowl. She took a spoon of something and put it in his mouth. It turned out to be oatmeal, very overcooked and utterly plain. He spluttered and spat out the first bite, partly in shock and partly by choking on the viscous substance.

“Oh, my prince, don’t be like that.” Vanessa pushed his chin up with a finger, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Please, eat your breakfast. After all, I want to keep you forever!” She scooped another spoonful of the oat mush and pressed it past his lips, which he swallowed bitterly to avoid another painfully cold touch. This continued until the bowl was empty and the prince felt sick to his stomach. Vanessa moved a small crate in front of him. For a brief moment, he had a glimmer of hope that she might give him at least the dignity of standing, but the crate stopped too far away for his feet to reach.

Daintily, Queen Vanessa climbed atop the crate, curled one icy finger under his chin, and gave her prince the coldest kiss he had ever experienced. She left him coughing and spluttering to take the bowl back to the kitchen. Try as he might, the prince could not accept this as reality. That icy monster could not be his princess. His stomach churned, and more tears ran down his cheeks, stinging the places Vanessa’s fingers had been and making him painfully aware of the lines of frostbite she’d left behind.

He was alone with his thoughts for hours. How could this have happened? Was it all truly because she believed he was having an affair with the florist? Surely his princess knew him better than that. Surely, this was all just a long and vivid dream he’d wake from at any moment. He was sleeping badly on his arms, that was surely why he couldn’t feel them. The pressure on his chest would just be a tightly-bound blanket bundle when he woke.

He strained against the chains in spite of his fantasy, and was rewarded with only pain. He tried to move his hands, they refused, too long had they been starved of circulation. With some effort, he managed to force one shoulder to bear more weight, freeing the circulation in the other arm. He held that position as long as he could, desperately moving the lifted arm to encourage new blood to replace the oxygen-depleted fluids. He could only hold himself long enough to feel pins and needles in his arm before he fell back down, panting. When his strength returned, he repeated the process on the other side. Ultimately, this proved fruitless. His efforts rewarded him only new pain as shackles dug into skin and his arms fell back into uselessness.

Queen Vanessa came back down with a plain sandwich for lunch. To his horror, she also carried a slice of cake with her. The very same cake that he had ordered to celebrate his extended vacation.

“The baker came by and delivered your cake, my prince,” Vanessa said coolly, cutting a delicate morsel of cake from the slice and delivering it to the prince’s mouth as he looked at her in horror. “I always found that man peculiar. Foreign. Odd accent. Sent his son to live with the rest of his family, said he wasn’t cut out for the bakery.” The prince didn’t speak, looking only in horror as she fed the desert to him. He feared the answer he would get if he dared to ask what had become of the baker.

When she finished feeding him, she stood on her little crate once more, wiped his tears with her freezing fingers, and kissed his head. “Farewell, my prince. Think of me until dinner!” She said cheerfully, ascending the stairs as gracefully as she had entered.

By dinnertime the reality of the situation had set in, along with a terrible realization. He had extended his holiday, which meant it would be a month before anyone knew he was missing. He had doubts he would survive a full month, let alone a month plus the time for a rescue to reach him. The cold realization that he would likely die chained to a wall took his energy from him, and he stared blankly at the opposite wall of the cellar.

He wondered if that cellar wall would be the last thing he would ever see, if he’d ever feel the sunlight again, or see the moon? Tears blurred his vision to nothing but darkness. In the silence and pain of the cellar, it was almost as if the shadows permeated his very soul. His lament was interrupted by the opening of the doors to the main manor, and Queen Vanessa descended the steps with a bowl of plain soup and a glass of water. The water was half-frozen by the time she attempted to pour it into his mouth, and the cold slush soaked his front. The soup was tasteless. He ate it automatically, too aware that he was utterly dependent on Vanessa continuing to feed him.

He looked at her desperately through his tears and whispered, his voice shot from earlier screams and cries, “My princess, please, let me go.”

A blast of cold hit him, coupled with a thunderous sound and quaking of the earth.

“My prince,” Queen Vanessa said, rising with her eyes glowing more brightly red than ever as shadows gathered at her feet, “you shall be mine forever.”

My King,

It brings me great pain to inform you that the envoy sent to Subcon Village to ascertain the whereabouts of your youngest son, his highness prince Brendan, was met with no success. We arrived outside the Subcon Forest’s edge only to be met with an utterly impenetrable storm of snow and ice, with winds the likes of which have never been seen. We know not what sorcery caused this disaster, but we can only assume it was an attack on the Kindom of Subcon. Her Majesty Queen Vanessa of Subcon has also not been seen nor heard from since the prince’s disappearance.

We shall continue to search for a break in the storm’s ferocity in the hopes the prince may be brought home safely, as well as in the hope my brother Cian may be returned.

Your humble servant,  
Torin


	5. The Prince's Fate

How long had he been down here? He wasn’t sure anymore. At one point, he had kept track of the days by the queen’s appearances. When she became unreliable, he had tracked the days by the cycles of yellow and blue light through the little window above him, but he had long since lost count. The state of his body no longer concerned him. He had long accepted the loss of feeling in his arms, the state of unclean he had been left in.

He painfully lifted his head to check the color of the light spilling in through the little window. Blue. Moonlight. Perhaps outside a full moon illuminated the trees of his beautiful Subcon. He remembered the moonlight early that fateful morning. He could imagine what he should have done. He should have awoken his princess, swept her off her feet and taken her to the village with him. He could have shared that beautiful moonlight with her! Any moment now, she would come down the stairs. He would offer his everything to her. He could give up anything, change anything if it made his princess happy.

Somewhere deep inside, he screamed that he knew it was a lie. Again and again he screamed in his head that he was lying to himself that he had any fault in this, and that Queen Vanessa would not be coming down the stairs any time soon. She especially would not be coming down to free him. Hatred twisted his stomach and he felt bile rise in his throat as bitter tears began to flow from his already bloodshot and sore eyes. He tried to choke the tears back, cursing his weakness that he would allow Queen Vanessa to pry precious water from him when he was already on the brink of death.

But… Vanessa was still his princess. His princess. The prince’s gaze softened as he looked back to the welcoming glow of the moonlight. After all, this was all a misunderstanding. He really should have known better, how stupid to hold the hand of a woman who was not his love. How much more incomprehensible to do such a thing in a romantic little florist’s stall, packed with new blossoms and fragranced with their perfume. Any moment his princess would appear. He would explain everything, explain it all so that she understood and let him free. He would apologize and fix everything like he always had.

She was not coming.

He would escape these bonds, he would free himself from her reign, and she would never touch the forest. The forest that should be his forest. He knew, he had already thought it through. He had nothing but time. He had plans within plans, backups, contingencies. He had a million ways to make a fool of her. A million ways to defeat her with the very law studies she had so despised. He would finish his studies, and he would turn every inch of the power of law against her. He would take everything. Her rule. Her freedom. He would take it all until she had nothing left. The best part, it would all be in writing. How easy it would be to trick Queen Vanessa, to present her with what she would believe was a contract of marriage when in reality she may as well be selling him her soul. The thought put a wicked grin on his face, or as near to it as his frailty allowed.

His thoughts swung violently back to his princess. Perhaps the flaw was more than just his actions? His dear princess had done his hair while she kept him here. Did he need to change more deeply? Was he not her ideal prince? He could change anything for her. He could study magic, magic could do most anything.

But it wasn’t his fault! It was her! She had put him here, over flowers! He lurched forward in his restraints, using what little energy he had left to attempt to break the chains. The cold iron held, and he tried to yell for the queen to release him at once. The sound came out as nothing but hoarse and strangled air that sent him into a coughing fit, he swore he could taste blood, and thought he felt something sticky dripping down his chest and seeping down his right arm before the shackle where he still had feeling. He didn’t dare look at his arms beyond the shackles, he was sure the flesh had long succumbed to the lack of circulation.

He almost hoped what he was feeling was his own blood, because if he bled out he wouldn’t be in this pain anymore.

But pain was what he deserved for ill-attending to his dear princess’ needs. He was sure he deserved this punishment somehow. There was some crucial flaw that his princess was fixing, that his imprisonment would repair. If having him in shackles fixed it, that was fine.

No! He was not this weak! He could not convince himself he was at fault! It was Queen Vanessa’s doing entirely. He was only a fool himself for not seeing sooner the warning signs. They were there, the way she pined after him while he was gone. He should have seen her jealousy of everything he did that was not expressly to attend to her! He should have left her clutches long ago!

But his princess, she cared for him. Had she not brought him food and water before? Told him secrets and stories to pass the time? Had she not kissed him and wiped his tears away?

Wiping his tears away had left him nothing but great loops of raw, frostbitten flesh from the ice cold touch of the creature that Queen Vanessa had become! He strained again, looking away from the moonlight as long as he could. His eyes invariably drifted downward.

In the cool blue light he could picture her, the soft light accentuating her smile as he gave her every second of his time. He would fix whatever she saw in him that was so clearly flawed! He could do it, even if it would take magic he could do it.

As his internal argument intensified, shadows gathered around the prince’s feet. He did not notice them, for he was too wrapped up in his debate against himself. Slowly, as he struggled, the shadow covered him completely. His features were wrapped in its darkness, his eyes and mouth glowing in the darkness. Still, he did not notice the change.

A yellow glow in his eyes, he thrashed against the chains again, silently shouting, “Let me out!” Red, he dreamed of her smile. Yellow, he bitterly accepted he was not strong enough to free himself. Red, he imagined what his princess might consider to be the perfect prince. Yellow, he pictured taking her crown and locking her away.

With one last heaved breath, the prince’s mind slipped into darkness.

But he became aware once more. He opened his eyes to find himself on the floor of the cellar. He no longer ached, nor hungered. He did not understand how he got there. Then he looked up. Then he saw himself. The spirit gasped in horror and slipped back across the bricks as he realized he was looking at his own body. It was in sorry shape. It was horribly unclean, and its hair stuck out at odd angles.

The shock began to wear off, he had been prepared to be dead for a while, but being a spirit was unexpected. His eyes fell on the moonlight beaming on the floor, he could even see the moon through the window now, if he tried. This was his chance! He could become the perfect prince for his princess now! The spirit’s eyes flickered red, and he moved towards his body, but stopped.

No. The eyes flickered to yellow again. This was his chance to make a fool of Queen Vanessa! He turned for the cellar doors, he would need to go out and finish preparing first.

The spirit’s eyes changed color more and more rapidly until it squeezed them shut and fell to the ground in pain. It writhed there for a moment until its form wavered, with a howl the spirit tore in two, one light with red eyes and the other dark with yellow eyes. The two otherwise visually identical spirits stared at each other for a moment.

“At least I don’t have to deal with your whining anymore.” The dark one broke the silence. “I suppose you’ll be wanting that, and I’d rather not let Queen Vanessa keep any part of me.”

The light spirit nodded, and the two moved together to the body that had once been the prince. With no effort, the dark spirit snapped the chains on the shackles and ripped the chains holding the prince’s midsection from the wall. The light one caught the falling mass, instantly merging with it. The body floated where the light spirit had been, its eyes glowing dimly red.

“Disgusting,” the dark one sneered at the red-eyed creature before retrieving the prince’s crown from the floor. “You even match her.”

“Do you think so?” The red-eyed creature asked, its voice hollow. “I need to become-”

“Perfect for your awful princess, who is the queen by the way, I know. We were the same person less than a minute ago.” the yellow-eyed spirit sneered, “Now come with me, she’ll have heard that howl we let out, and if you want a chance to make that husk perfect, you need to get it out of here.”

The red-eyed creature looked blankly at the yellow-eyed spirit for a moment, then turned, and bowed at the stairs, gracelessly flailing his arms into the semblance of the position they were supposed to be. “I promise, my princess, I will come back as your ideal prince and leave you wanting no more.”

“Utterly vile,” the dark spirit complained again before grabbing the red-eyed being by the arm and dragging him towards the doors to the outside. “You are the biggest fool of all if you think she will ever see you as perfect. What is worse, if you are such a fool, then so am I.”

The yellow-eyed spirit burst through the doors of the cellar, leading the red-eyed creature out into the snow.

Tale of a place  
a deep forest  
dark with grace  
there he lives  
blooming inside a wild field  
of big eyes  
and there he lives  
skin so blue  
his eyes shot red  
the moon, the sky  
tell him only lies  
he doesn't know  
she waits inside  
she lost her mind  
many years gone by

Tale of a place  
a deep forest  
frozen fate  
there he waits  
placing his deal, just your soul  
Will you sign?  
And there he waits  
spirit dark  
his glowing eyes  
no love, his law  
is wrought with despise  
he knows too well  
she waits inside  
they lost their minds  
many years gone by


	6. The First Sign

The yellow-eyed spirit threw the red eyed creature unceremoniously out the doors before stepping out into the open himself. He surveyed his surroundings with a flat expression. “Snow, out of season. Looks like Queen Vanessa was doing more than just leaving frostbite lines on your face.” He crossed his arms and looked around, taking in the ice wall around the manor.

The red-eyed creature had landed face-first in the snow. He dragged himself up awkwardly, floating into the air more than he actually moved his body. Once he was upright, he turned to the spirit. “The snow catches the moonlight beautifully,” the creature stated with a hollow, distant voice, “I think she wanted something beautiful to look at.”

The spirit laughed dismissively. “I think you’re a fool,” he sneered, “One of us is correct.” He took a moment to take stock of himself, and realized there was something missing from his person. “You… You go do whatever it is you think is going to make you ‘perfect’. I’m going back for my crown.” He turned on his heels and went back down the steps, locating the crown on the ground below the broken chains on the wall. He picked it up with a fanged grin, knowing this symbol of his royalty would be a useful tool. As he looked at it, he heard the doors to the manor upstairs open.

“My prince?” Vanessa’s voice called. Not waiting to see if she would come down the steps, the spirit flew up the stairs and back to the snowy field outside. His fears of discovery were validated by a shriek from inside the manor and another quaking of the earth. It took no time to find the cause, as great ice spikes sprouted from the ground near the manor and climbed to the height of the lower sections of roofing.

The spirit scoffed and touched down in the snow once more, putting his crown on his head. A quick survey of the area showed the red-eyed creature had left, a snaking pair of lines through the snow indicating he had left floating low enough to the ground to drag his toes through the glistening powder.

The spirit narrowed his eyes at the trail and walked deliberately, slowly around to the front of the manor in the opposite direction. He knew he was risking the chance that Vanessa would come out looking for him, but what did he care? He was a spirit now. It wasn’t part of the plan, but he’d endured enough to not look a gift horse in the mouth. In particular, this gift happened to contain the power of flight. He was certain that was all he needed to evade the queen, should she surprise him by leaving the manor.

He made it to the front and still didn’t see his red-eyed counterpart. To be sure, he took a few steps towards the other side of the house. To his satisfaction, he saw the pathetic snow-trail continue to one of the walls of ice, then disappear. No other trail lead to it, which convinced the spirit that his counterpart had opted to simply go over the wall. He decided to take no such shortcut, and resumed walking the path to the village.

As he walked, he scowled at the spread of the ice and snow. He had expected it to begin to lessen after the lake, but there was no respite from it. The ice instead coalesced into a great cave where his moonlit path through the trees once stood. He didn’t care for the moonlight now anyway, but the ice cavern continued too far. With a deepening scowl, he walked more quickly to where he knew the first homes of the village should begin.

To his disgust, he found the ice continued even here. Homes were skewered and shattered with spikes of ice overfilling their spaces and sticking out of roofs, windows, and doors. Near several of the doors, he noticed suspicious drifts in the snow. Already knowing exactly what he would find, he carefully brushed the snow from the top of one of the mounds. His scowl twisted into a grimace as he uncovered the frozen corpse of a child, still wearing her rabbit mask. He buried her again in snow, standing over her little body as he began to shake with rage.

Then, something clicked into place. He could forget the plan. Vanessa’s reign was over. With a sudden devilish grin, he threw his head back and laughed. “What a fool you are, Queen Vanessa! A Foooooooool!” He drags out the last word, his voice booming in the frozen courtyard and echoing eerily in the empty space. He did not bother to walk this time. At top speed, he flew over the top of the cave to the front of the manor again.

“Queen Vanessa of Subcon,” He boomed from outside, “I hereby declare you unfit to rule by reason of fatal magical attack against your own people!”

Blue fire began to spark around his clenched fists, though he did not notice it in his focussed rage.

“I, Prince Brendan, shall henceforth take over your responsibilities as regent!” He continued, his bitterness pouring into every word. “Your punishment for your crime… will be to watch me rule. Without you.”

He took to the air again, heading straight for the bridge that connected the property Vanessa’s manor sat on to the main road. He knew he had broken iron chains with little effort earlier, but he couldn’t be sure how strong his spectral form truly was. One thing was for sure: he wanted this bridge taken out. To see if he could, he lifted one foot and slammed it into the bridge.

He was rewarded with a satisfying shockwave and a few bricks falling. He felt he could do better. He took a step out to the center of the bridge and slammed his foot harder into the rocks. His devilish grin returned as he felt the stones of the bridge crumble under him as he floated off of it, and it was in looking down at his handiwork with the bridge that he noticed the sparks around his hands. Seeing the immediate usefulness of the flames, he set his sights on unfreezing the forest.

Almost immediately the main problem he would have was apparent. Vanessa’s icy temper had taken its toll on the region, he found no survivors. He would frequently come across the souls of those who were wearing their masks. They did little but unnerve him. The worst sight he found by far, though, was his own royal carriage. The horses and driver, it seemed, had been frozen solid instantly. The horses were in perfectly calm petrified stances, and his friend Cian’s face was frozen in the calm but witty smile he had always known.

He turned and punched a nearby large mushroom, causing the giant fungus to erupt into a spray of powder and springy chunks. His hand stayed planted in the stem for a moment as he calmed himself down, cursing the queen in his head for targeting his friend so specifically. When he felt he was calm enough to do so, he searched the area for Cian’s spirit, hoping he might find it like the others. He had no such luck, but when he closed his eyes and felt for it, he could swear he could feel the connection.

He knew where he needed to go, though he was reluctant as he knew the red-eyed one would be there too. He needed books on magic, and that meant heading up to one of the towers. He didn’t look forward to seeing his counterpart, but he could do it if he must. He would also need to get to making graves for all of the lost lives soon.

When he arrived at the tower, the red-eyed creature was already there. He didn’t smell as bad this time, and his clothes were fairly clean now. “Clean clothes and a bath are a good step towards perfection,” he commented loudly, making his counterpart lose his place in his book. “Unfortunately for you, you’re still a ghost puppeting a corpse.”

The red-eyed creature tilted his head, then to the darker spirit’s chagrin the red-eyed spirit let the body go limp and reappeared in his spirit form. “I can also just be a ghost prince,” the lighter spirit said distantly, “physicality is ideal, but slows my research.”

“Could you not just leave our body lying around?” the darker spirit complained. “It’s embarrassing to see something that looks so much like myself looking so weak.”

The lighter spirit turned to him, “You are welcome to search the collection.” He paused, “Please bring me any book you find on realms of magic. I need the power to perfect myself.”

The darker spirit agreed and began to search through the books, eventually landing on one that he surreptitiously took notes from and hid among the shelves. “Hey, red-eyes!”

The other spirit looked up from his book.

“I think I found your place, copied the info down and everything.” The yellow-eyed spirit said coolly, “so I have a proposition, let's put it in writing. You find me a way to connect the souls of the people who died here to something that lets them interact with the world, and I’ll give you the secret to making yourself as perfect as you could want. Deal?”

The darker spirit held out a second page with a line for a signature on it. Thinking about it, the red-eyed spirit eventually reached out and signed the document. “Anything for my princess.”

Satisfied, the darker spirit left his infuriating counterpart to tend to the many graves that needed digging. Under his breath, he muttered, “Anything for my forest.”


	7. On the Horizon

The red-eyed spirit’s gaze was locked on the window through which the shadowy one had left long after he was out of view. “Frustrating,” he commented at length, “to believe we were the same person.” When he broke his stare, he moved the prince’s body near the window to keep it cool and set a small spell with a spark of his own magic while he was at it.

He was certain that his shadowy counterpart would learn soon, if he had not already, that as spirits magic came much easier to them. He did not anticipate enjoying his counterpart’s actions in that regard, but the easier spells made for convenient preservation of the prince’s physical remains. Cold helped too, and he thanked his princess for the convenience.

He returned to the library, tracking down the book his counterpart had located with little difficulty, mainly due to the faint scent of burnt pages leading him to it. He sighed, knowing what he would find, and opened the book anyway. It fell to a page that was burnt to near the binding, save for a bit of the heading, loose and stuck back into the book like a bookmark that read, ‘The H’.

The spirit pinched the leaf of paper in his hands and glared at it, commenting to himself, “He has discovered magic, and he is also a defiler of knowledge.” He shook his head, closing the book and turning to the cover, confirming it was a compilation of known extant realms. “He should have taken this with him, rather than burn it. Wasteful.”

He skimmed the remaining undamaged pages of the book and stopped on a page near the back, laughing quietly to himself. He had found a page detailing how the dimension on which most spirits reside could be accessed utilizing magical bells. Step one in the process of connecting those souls for his dark counterpart.

He returned to his studies, working diligently through the many tomes as the hours passed. The next piece of the puzzle he found was a binding spell. It would require agreement and a physical component. He set that book on top of the book of realms with the page still open.

He mused about that physical component while he searched, temporarily distracted from his quest to become perfect by this side quest set out by his shaded double. He thought of the hastily forged document he had signed before the shadowed irritant had left, and considered suggesting drawing up contracts to fulfill both needs, especially considering how much it seemed the other spirit was enjoying utilizing their shared knowledge of the law.

The spirit poured over the collection, eventually amassing three piles of books. The smallest of the piles was the basic knowledge his counterpart would need. The bells, the spell, and an entire book dedicated to magical dolls, which he had found unnerving until he glanced at the body of the prince near the window and decided he had no right to feel that way.

Slightly larger was the second pile, additional magic related to souls that he had determined wasn’t directly related to the shadowed spirit’s demand, but that he would provide anyway in good faith. After all, a prince takes care of his people, and that seemed to be his intention. Why not arm him with additional knowledge that might keep him out of the way?

The spirit floated gently over to the body of the prince, vanishing into it and opening his eyes, now again in control of the otherwise empty shell. He got up, this time not needing to rely on flight, and stretched. The body resisted this reanimation each time he entered it, though each time it took less work to loosen stiff joints and muscles to do his bidding.

He brushed his hair back from his eyes slightly and pulled himself up from the floor, adjusting to the sensation of having true weight. As he retrieved the two stacks of books to uphold his far-less-than-binding contract with the other half of the prince’s spirit, his gaze fell on the third stack he had organized, a stack of additional information for himself. The topics ranged from transformative magics, all too subtle for his needs, to theories on opening magical doors to other realms.

It troubled him that the only author who seemed to openly acknowledge visiting any other plane was the author of the book his counterpart had defiled, but that thought only gave him a moment of pause. He knew his princess was waiting for her perfect prince. She had tried to make him into that shape. She had tried to fix his hair, to correct his wandering attentiveness. He would make himself ideal, and he would return to her. They would be happy again. He smiled, for a perfect prince should be happy, and walked towards the window, gently stepping out and floating to the snow below.

He had not yet been through the forest, and was dismayed to see the state it was in. Trees shed frozen leaves onto the silent snow below, and he was met with the sad state of the once-glittering village square. The same square that he had greeted his beautiful princess in at his return to the region. Homes and businesses were shattered, ice crept down the streets and upturned carts. Spikes lanced through buildings haphazardly.

He lost his practiced smile as he realized the pattern the ice was following in the square, and he forced the pace of his stubborn legs to increase as he felt his fears well up inside him. With a pang of guilt and despair, he found he had been completely correct. Frozen along with a small child wearing a fox mask was the florist he had visited. Nothing remained of her now but perfect blue ice, Vanessa’s magic had transformed her body completely.

He wanted to vomit, or drop to his knees and scream. Neither happened, though tears he did not know he could still cry spilled down the frostbitten lines on his face. He came closer to her, clasping the books he still held tightly as his hands began to tremble. The scene was only worse as he approached.

A spike of ice that had seemed to be behind her at first revealed itself to go directly through her. The remains of what must have been blood before Vanessa’s magic had transformed them to ice snaked the cold spear, and the florist’s face was a permanent mask of pain. The child in front of her was permanently covering their eyes, frozen while trying to escape the ghastly sight.

“All my fault,” He whispered, his red eyes taking in the death and destruction around him, “I pushed her to this. It’s all my fault.”

He forced himself to leave the village square. He needed to keep moving if he was to achieve his goal. By the time he located the other spirit, his smile was back on his face. A perfect prince should, after all, be happy.

“Oh, it’s you.” The yellow-eyed spirit sneered, “Found what I need already then?”

“Yes,” the red-eyed creature replied, holding the books tightly, “But I’ll need that page first. You and I both know that little paper you had me sign was a farce. Even if it had been bindingly worded, you cannot make a legal arrangement with yourself.”

The yellow-eyed spirit laughed loudly at that, the sound seeming to fill the empty forest. “Very well! Here, take your information, give me the books, and leave. I have work to do to save my people.”

“I know,” the red-eyed creature said, his eyes flicking over the page he had obtained as his smile grew, before safely storing it inside his jacket. “Might I suggest drawing up contracts for the binding of your spells, though. Real ones, not the hasty joke you made for me.” He paused, maintaining his smile.

With his head tilted to the side he asked, “Will you please make sure you care for those in the village square as well?”

Still smiling, the red-eyed creature took his leave, opting this time to fly, for expedience. The page he had received was everything he could have hoped for, a place called the Horizon, a realm where there slept the power to weave the fabric of reality. He laughed to himself as he cleared the treetops and began to fly back to the tower where the other books awaited him.

His eyes locked onto the moon in the distance, just starting to meet the physical horizon as dawn approached. The author had not detailed how to reach this new realm, but with his magic, he was sure he would find it. “It will be just like leaping to the moon,” he said to himself, “I’ll leap to the moon on the horizon and become the true prince, the image of perfection, the reflection of her beauty.”

He arrived back at the tower before the sun broke the dawn in the eastern sky and set about his work with feverish intensity. For perfection, for his princess, there was much to be done. Books were thrown open and scattered across the floor, and his notes slowly amassed into a sheet across the ground as the day went on.

He kept repeating what he had said to himself on the way back to the tower as his goal came closer at hand. He would leap to the moon, just one short hop, a jump between realms. He would make that jump to be like the moon for his dear princess. By the day’s end, the phrase had coalesced into a single feverish title that he repeated to himself under his breath as he worked.

“I will become the Moonjumper.”


	8. For My Subjects

The yellow-eyed spirit glared at the spot his red-eyed counterpart had been a moment ago before turning to the stack of books he had been left. Hilarious though it was that that creature thought they were still both the prince as if they were some kind of joined being (and as if he had not usurped Vanessa’s throne), he had real work to do. He grinned as he thought of the page he had passed off to his counterpart. He had dutifully copied down all of the information necessary to get his counterpart what he wanted, but only the necessary information. After all, troublesome details would only slow his counterpart’s progress, and he was rather fond of the idea of his pale double vanishing into another realm a while.

He put those thoughts aside and began to leaf through the books one by one to the places his counterpart had marked. The image came together slowly of the solution the other had found, but not bothered to explain. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he may need to ask the red-eyed one for assistance. The task of creating a puppet body for every person lost to Vanessa’s fury seemed entirely too much for one man, but as he kept reading, he realized the red-eyed one had thought of this as well, one of the later books dealt in simple creation magic. It was weak, but it could replicate smaller items.

At that, he brought the books into his old home in the dark part of the forest. It was time to begin his task in earnest, and to start he would need supplies. He made his way back to the village, flying this time for expedience. He found the entrance to the textile shop and touched down with a soft crunch of snow underfoot. The snow was not present long, as he immediately summoned a blaze around him, melting the snow around him before the fires settled around just his hands.

He stepped forward, examining the building. Like so many of the structures of the village, Vanessa’s magic had done incredible damage. The remnants of structure would likely fall in once the ice was gone, so he’d need to work carefully. He reached out his hand and touched his fiery palm to the ice that poured out of the door, instantly rewarded with a satisfying hiss as the ice began to recede around that point. It was long, soggy work, but soon enough he found what he needed.

Fabric, high quality and sturdy. It would need to withstand long use, and though now that he had it in hand he could easily create more he was not looking to constantly babysit his subjects’ every need of repair. Wood came from the fallen beams, and he unfroze tunnels in the ice before locating cotton fluff for stuffing plush parts. He took all of these items along with needles and thread for sewing back to his home.

Sewing was never his strong suit, and in spite of his best efforts, the process went poorly, ultimately only being able to make a rough and smallish facsimile of what a typical Subconite villager might look like. He turned the doll over in his hands, finding it reasonably acceptable for all its crude design. He knew it had to be so small for the duplication spell to work, but that did not make him more inclined to like his handiwork. He wondered if perhaps it was just that it needed something for a face.

He turned his attention to the piece of wood he had brought with him. He didn’t have time to shape it traditionally, but he had his own plan. He stepped outside, leaning against the wall as he summoned fire on just his left hand and focused on it intensely, shaping it down to a very thin layer of intensely hot blue flame that coated his hand like a glove. Grinning triumphantly at this, he pressed the side of his hand to the top of the board. He was rewarded with a puff of smoke, which might have been bothersome if he needed to breathe, and exactly what he wanted to see: the wood smoldering quickly to ash as he pushed his hand directly through the board.

The next step of his process was less fruitful, as he attempted to sculpt something that resembled a face shape for his doll. Attempt after attempt ended up misshapen and thrown on the ground. The second-to-last attempt was thrown with such force that it shattered to splinters on impact with the ground. Finally, he simply made a disc. His new subjects would have to accept simplicity. He studied law, not art! Still, he was aware of color enough to realize that coal black on the dark purple the fabric he had found (or rather, chosen, as he thought it entertaining his subjects might match him) would not look complete. He went back inside and turned to his cabinets, digging through his supplies until he found what he was looking for, a set of cans of basic colors of paint. They had been sealed tightly, so with any luck they would still be usable.

A memory came to mind as he reached for them, the reason he had them in the first place. Vanessa had wanted him to try painting her. As he recalled, she had been unsatisfied with the result. He grimaced and put the thoughts of that woman behind him, focusing on the task at hand. He caught the reflection of his face in a framed portrait on the wall, his eyes momentarily matching his face in the professionally commissioned painting behind the glass.

He knew exactly the final touch his little doll needed. He reached for yellow paint and a brush, attempting to open the can with his bare hand. The lid stuck, and he wished his hand simply had a better way to grip it. To his surprise his hand reacted to his whim, fingertips sharpening into wicked claws. The lid of the can was easily removed with this new source of leverage, and he began his work. The old paint needed an incredible amount of stirring before it could be used, but once it was reinvigorated it worked wonderfully.

He affixed the little yellow disc, once dried, to the blank face of the doll, pulling its little hood up over its head. He admired his handiwork and regretted that he could not do better for his people, though he was also happy to at least do something.

The next step was trickier, he needed to make that special bell. He had never worked with metal before, but now he had magic on his side, at least. The process was nonetheless exhaustive. He made many bells that turned out to not be strong enough to reveal what he needed before finally getting the entire process right, ringing the bell and finding the lost souls he sought. The maskless spirits floated as otherwise shapeless wisps in the bell’s sphere of influence.

He returned home quickly to complete the final steps. He quickly wrote a simple contract, one that would bind a soul to a doll, and laid the original doll on the table. Focusing his power, he duplicated the doll successfully. He stored the original after a moment of hesitation. For whom he intended to bring back to this world, he would rather give the best doll. However, he knew it would be easier to complete his work by continuing to copy the original than by making copies of copies.

With all three of the items he would need, he rushed back to the place he had found his carriage. Cian’s frozen form still sat smiling in the seat. He rang the bell, and was rewarded with the sight of a spirit floating in the seat next to him. The shadowy spirit wasted no time beginning his spell, it’s power giving the area an eerie light. The little spirit lurched towards the doll and its yellow face began to glow.

“P-prince Brendan?!” The voice was different, but the recognition was there.

“Cian?” He asked, getting down on his knees to be on level with the newly animated doll.

“You- I-” the confused little doll began to panic, “what happened?! Why am I so small? Why do you look-?”

“I’ll answer all of this in time, but for now for you to stay with me, my friend, I need you to sign this.” The spirit presented the contract along with a pen to the doll, “I need you to trust me.”

The doll looked up at the spirit, and signed with some hesitation. The spell was completed, and the field of magic around them collapsed. As the regular world came back into view, the little doll looked around at the destruction that had been wrought by Vanessa’s tantrum.

“Prince Brendan… what happened here?” the doll asked, its voice shaking.

“Vanessa.” The spirit replied seriously, “She has murdered us all, Cian.” The spirit pointed to the carriage behind them, where Cian’s ice sculpture that was his remains still sat.

The little doll jolted and looked away, “The queen did this?”

“Not the Queen of Subcon any longer,” the shadow corrected, “and I am King Brendan now.”

Outside the snowstorm surrounding the forest, Cian’s Brother Torin still awaited his supplies. The clearly magical weather had his mood quite low, and he feared the worst. To his surprise, he heard the clatter of distant horses’ hooves on the road. He joined his men, warily looking at the approaching riders. The sight of their kingdom’s colors raised their spirits immensely.

The riders slowed as they approached, and Torin could see packs on the horses. His hopes to get through the ice storm quickly rose with every moment. He stepped forward, raising his hand in greeting as the front most rider did the same.

“Are you Torin?” The rider asked, dismounting his steed to face the older man.

“I am,” came his weary reply, “dare I hope that you’ve brought us supplies to help us traverse this infernal snowstorm?” Torin kicked the slush spilling over from the storm.

“Indeed. Your orders from the king are to turn back should the snow keep you for more than three days.” The rider warned, untying the pack from his horse, “Supplies for six days total was all the kingdom could gather on such short notice.”

Torin nodded and turned to his men, “Assist our friends in unloading the supplies,” he ordered, “and when coats and boots come out, get them on. My brother is in that forest, and if he can still be saved, I will bring him home.”


	9. Into the Horizon

The red-eyed creature examined himself in the mirror-like surface of a wall of ice with a frown. He felt more energetic with the fruits of his endeavor so close at hand, but his list of changes to become his princess’ perfect prince was growing longer than he had anticipated. His clothing was ragged from his struggling before and during his captivity, and his skin had taken on the beginnings of a bluish pallor.

Stepping closer to the ice, he examined his face more closely. The red frostbite lines that he had gained from Vanessa’s caress nearly glowed against his otherwise deathly complexion. His hair needed brushing, but that didn’t necessarily require magic. He made careful note of every imperfection he would need to address. He wanted his stay in this other realm to be as brief as possible, so he could expediently return to his princess. He knew, after all, that he could fix this just as he had fixed their relationship in the past.

He turned from the makeshift mirror and re-ascended the tower, heading all the way to the roof where he could see the moon just cresting over the storm that seemed to wrap the borders of Subcon Forest. “It is time,” he mused aloud, “to achieve my goal, to become the Moonjumper.” He turned for a moment to face the direction of the manor, bowing elegantly in spite of the crazed smile upon his face. “For you, my princess.”

He turned back to his work, quickly making his final preparations, as he would need the rising moon as a landmark for his work. He pulled a spool of thread from his pocket, he had already cut it down to the length of twice his arm span, wrapping it carefully around each palm before carefully entwining each of his fingers and thumbs. He willed the magic around him to pull the center of the strand until it was taught, and pointed the string at the lowest tip of the waning crescent moon.

His task was simple but long, keep the string trained on the sky whilst ever so slowly pulling that point on the mundane horizon, the vanishing point his string drew, closer to directly above him. The moon would be his guide, preventing him from becoming overzealous and moving too quickly. He knew early on it was working, as the landscape captured within the string moved with its frame as he slowly followed the moon.

With his arms finally up over his head, he was rewarded with true success. The black string entwined around his hands abruptly vanished, the vision of a sideways world within filling his view until the moon once again rested on the clouds of the snowstorm.

“The Horizon,” a whisper filled his ears that seemed to come from everywhere and contain thousands of voices, “you wish to join us in the Horizon?” The voice echoed in his head after it spoke.

“Yes!” The red-eyed creature replied eagerly, keeping his hands in their positions as squares of color appeared over the moon, the skyline of Subcon faded into these squares, boxes of blacks and purples, blues and greys. Black threads began to fall from the boxes, reaching out to his outstretched hands as the voices filled his head again.

“Reach out,” the whispers swirled in his mind, “take the strings. Reach out, take the strings!”

He did as he was told, grabbing hold of the black threads as they converged on his hands, their numbers surging until he was fully ensnared. He allowed this to happen as the voices continued to whisper to him.

“Prince. Prince. Prince. Brendan. Moonjumper.” The voices cycled name and titles, “Yes, Moonjumper, we like your title, Moonjumper. Join us, the Horizon, Moonjumper. Excellent title, suits you.”

The strands lifted him rapidly from the tower and towards the moon in the sky, which still hung decorated with the multicolored squares. When it seemed the moon would take all of his vision, he found himself floating free. He thought himself upside down at first, because his vision was filled with trees reaching down from above as far as the eye could see. Gaining his bearings, he realized the trees simply reached down, and that he was oriented correctly. The Moon was below his feet now. He laughed madly at this.

“Is this why you liked my title so?” He called into the expanse, seeing several figures suddenly shift in the trees at his words. None of them were recognisable, all amorphous black forms with white masks, all at extreme distance.

“Yes,” the voices returned to whisper in his head, “yes, Moonjumper, yes, we like your title because it suits you well. You have made your leap. Now it is time, show us your desire.” The black threads bloomed out around his feet, layering up around his body so as to just barely avoid touching him. “You desire to be the perfect prince? Yes, we can do that. Yes, you can achieve that here. Close your eyes Moonjumper, give us your desires.”

The red-eyed creature closed his eyes, giving himself up to the magic of the Horizon, and began to dream.

“Vanessa! Look! I found a frog!”

He was a child again, that day at the well. He hadn’t known he had run into her. Hours they spent playing, just being children.

“Gross!” Vanessa had laughed, “put it down, Brendan, I don’t want to see any frogs!”

“If you insist.” He had replied, putting the frog gently back into the plants by the water’s edge. He had shown her flowers, butterflies, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, but the most wonderful thing he had seen that day was her smile.

Then the clattering of adult footfalls on the boardwalks had sent them both into a panic.

“Vanessa, you must hide, they can’t find you with me!” Brendan had warned his new friend.

“What?!” Vanessa had exclaimed, “Brendan, they mustn’t find you with me!” The little girl’s eyes had grown wide.

“No, Vanessa, you don’t understand,” he had insisted, beginning to push her around to the other side of the well, “I am Prince Brendan, if they find you with me-”

Vanessa had cut him off. “Prince?! You’re the visiting prince?!”

“Yes, and if you don’t hide you will-”

“I am Princess Vanessa!” She suddenly exclaimed. It had stopped him in his tracks.

“P-princess?!” It took him a moment to process that information. “You’re the princess I am meant to meet today?!”

“And you’re my prince?!” The little girl stared at him in shock.

He had started laughing, and taken her hands, dancing in a circle with her, “Vanessa, that means you’re my princess too! I like you, this is so much better than I thought!”

Vanessa startled out a laugh as Brendan spun her in circles on the boardwalk. “I like you too, Brendan!”

They had been caught after that, separated, but when they met again their smiles had returned, and they had danced together to the delight of all in attendance of their party.

He was older now, a young teen whose education had started to get truly serious. He had another unreasonably large book open in his lap as his carriage approached Subcon. He had his favorite fountain pen hovering over a pad of paper on his left side, taking rather bumpy notes as the wheels gently bounced on the road. His right hand traced the lines of the book he was reading. As he turned the page, he swapped which hand was assigned to which task, to make following the next page easier.

A laugh from the front of the carriage broke his concentration. “Cian,” he had groaned, “what now?”

The older gentleman smiled warmly back at the prince assigned to his care, “Your little trick simply amuses me, Prince Brendan. Your own mundane magic, hmm?”

He had blushed deeply. “I’m being set up to be the king of what is arguably the most magically connected kingdom in the known world, and yet I have almost no magical ability myself,” he commented, “not for lack of study of course, it simply never came to me. I can at least have my trick with the pen!”

The driver laughed again. “Of course, Prince Brendan. It’s a shame though, if you would only commit to your swordplay, you could do that same trick with a blade!”

He had responded with a huff and looked back down at his book. “Swordplay isn’t that interesting. I’d rather study or travel.”

“Or,” the driver had teased, “spend time with your dear princess.”

He had blushed deeply and lifted his book in front of his face, hiding as Cian’s laughter filled the air.

It was later that same visit, He had taken Vanessa out to the old well again. She had just gotten a new dress, its spring greens matching beautifully with the leaves and myriad of floral colors of the wetlands. She twirled for him on the boardwalk, he remembered hoping his eyes reflected her beauty back at her, the patterns of her gown swimming in his mind.

“You are truly the most lovely creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon, my princess!” he had delightedly exclaimed, darting forward and holding her in his arms as she giggled. “You know, I would have chosen you.”

“What?” Vanessa had seemed caught off her guard by this.

“We were arranged for each other,” he responded in a happy but serious tone, “but I would have chosen to be with you, had I been given the choice. Truly, my princess.” A blush had grown on his face, turning his cheeks a bright pink, “I love you. I brought you to the place we first met to… to let you know.”

Vanessa had cut him off here with a tearful smile and a long, soft embrace. “I love you too, my prince.”

He awoke again, still in the Horizon. He had no way to check his appearance, he realized, no mirror.

“Not done, not perfect yet,” the voices of the Horizon whispered, swirling in his mind, “Stay with us, we will help you, she will love you.”

But he felt awful having not checked on Subcon, after all, a Prince’s duty was to his people. As if responding to his wish, the moon below him rippled like water, and he saw his Princess’ manor below him, though he could not see inside. A strange fog surrounded the manor, obscuring his view.

“My princess,” he asked aloud, “Does she wait for me?”

The whispers of the Horizon took a moment to respond, “She searches, she is elsewhere, she desires your perfection. You must attain it.”

“Very well.” He cast a last longing glance at the manor before turning his focus to his old home, the scene in front of him shifted in response. As he looked, it occurred to him that there was nothing particularly regal about his home in the woods. The old queen had been quite cruel in that regard, his accommodations had almost nothing in the way of fanfare. The Horizon was a place of near limitless magic. He wondered if, given that he could see Subcon, if he could not perfect it as well. He reached out his hand, rewarded with a spray of black strings, each shrouded in a purple glow, lancing down from the sky to the area around his old home.

He made banners and decorated his old home with bright livery. All was going well, until a viscous flurry of two-clawed hands began to shred his strings. He almost didn’t recognise his counterpart, save for the yellow eyes that now glared at him. Misshapen objects fell haphazardly from the interrupted creation process, littering the area with half-formed ideas made real.

“Leave.” The dark spirit commanded, his anger tangible across dimensions.

“I am the Prince,” the Moonjumper replied calmly, taking a bow, “I cannot simply leave my home unattended.”

“You really are a fool, aren’t you?” the dark spirit sneered, “You already left Subcon unattended, and in the dark no less. Your little adventure between realms managed to send my forest into an unending night. You are truly a perfectly horrible prince, and that’s the only perfection you’ll ever achieve!”

The Moonjumper reeled back at this, the window into Subcon closing below him. He clenched his hands at his sides, fighting off the horrible thing his counterpart had said. He would achieve his goal, it was attainable! It had to be! The forest being plunged into darkness, though, that he could not abide without at least offering some apology. He brought his old home into view once more. The shadow was gone, though he could not be sure for how long.

Reaching his hand out through the rippling image once more, he sent the strings down again to craft his apology. Swirling blue flowers sprang up at the end of each thread, modified from the wildflowers of the forest to thrive in the moonlight. He would fix what he had done when he returned, he could only hope that the small offering of beauty would suffice in the meantime.

“Remember your goal,” the voices of the Horizon whispered in his mind again, “You must first be perfect, for your princess.”

With their words echoing, he pulled away from the fading image of Subcon, closing his eyes again, and remembering a less happy time as the black threads overtook his form once more.


	10. His Forest

The ghostly regent was tired. After telling his story to Cian, minus the red-eyed pest (with any luck, he would soon be gone for good anyway) he had confirmed with the newly-resurrected man that the doll body was an acceptable alternative to no longer being a part of this world. With that in mind, he had set about the long task of bringing back every resident of Subcon who desired to join his new ghostly kingdom. His small army of doll-people amassed, he was magically spent and ready to retire to his home with a book and simply melt into a chair.

He did exactly that for most of the night until a commotion from his subjects disturbed his peaceful reading. He had barely put aside his book when Cian came running into the room.

“Forgive me, King Brendan,” the doll spoke, “A group of travelers has entered the forest, carrying our-” he caught himself here, “your father’s kingdom’s colors. I think it would be wise if you went to meet them, highness. Of all of us, you are the one who most resembles your former self.”

The spirit sighed heavily in frustration and rubbed his brow, “Very well. You make a good point, Cian, but I am exhausted. I can only hope that whatever envoy my father sent after me is reasonable. Subcon’s new state of being is… Unusual, to say the least. I will need to tread lightly meeting our guests.” He narrowed his eyes, hissing his last few words, “Which unfortunately I am in no mood to do.” He left his seat, retrieving his crown from the table next to him. The spirit gestured for the doll to lead the way, preparing himself for the guests to his new, unusual kingdom.

“King Brendan, there is one more thing you should know,” Cian warned, pausing before leading his king from his home, “the Subconites have been seeing odd things in the sky. Even I’ve looked up momentarily and seen for just a moment the illusion that the skyline has shifted, bent sideways. If one looks away, however, it ceases to be so. I suspect someone is working powerful magic, to cause such a widespread disturbance.”

The spirit’s grin returned slightly, for he knew the only thing that could be happening in his kingdom to cause such a thing. “I will look into it,” He diplomatically replied, hiding his delight, “for now, let us attend our guests.”

Cian nodded and led his king outside, where they were greeted with an unusual sky indeed and sounds of concern from across the forest as the Subconites, still grappling with everything they had already endured, looked in shock at a sky full of darkly colored squares. The squares were sparse directly above them, increasing in density as they neared the area of one of the towers. The doll and spirit stood in awe of the spectacle, watching as a mass of black descended upon the tower roof, lingering for a moment before lifting back into the squares, the entire display vanishing.

“Highness?” The doll turned, his voice shaking as he looked to his king for an answer to this latest development.

“Fear not, my good friend,” the ghostly king replied cheerfully, “that was merely a trap I laid for a threat to our kingdom. All is quite well.” The spirit knelt to be on level with a small gathering of Subconites that had gathered near him in their fear. “Go, and tell the others. There is nothing to fear from the oddities in the sky this night. Your king has rid us of a dangerous influence, and all is well.”

“Yes, Sire!” The nearest of the Subconites replied. From his voice, he seemed to have been a young man in life. The spirit did not recognize him. The group split apart, running throughout the forest to spread the news.

“Well then, Cian, shall we attend to our original reason for this stroll?” the king inquired, his grin fading as he returned to the concern of his father’s men seeing him in his current state. Recognizable as he was, he could not deny that in life if he had seen even his own brothers or sister in the state he was now, he would question if they were truly who they claimed to be. The state of being of Cian and his other subjects would be harder still to explain.

“Yes, indeed,” The man in a doll’s body replied uncertainly. He turned to lead his king forward. “Apparently our guests have arrived from the far edge of the forest, around the swamp.”

The two walked in silence for the rest of the distance between themselves and their guests, the shadowy spirit’s face increasingly showing his nerves. As they drew nearer to their guests, the pair slowed, and the spirit began to cling more and more to the shadows. He would at least see who had entered his kingdom before he made his move.

“At least the ice did not persist into the forest,” a very familiar voice said to his men, “We’ll find shelter for the night, and find the Prince and my brother in the morning. As much as I would like to comb the forest for them immediately, you men deserve a rest without howling wind and snow.”

Cian’s featureless, glowing face turned to meet the gaze of his king. “Torin.” he said simply, his gaze falling to his hands, then to his small doll body, “I do not believe he is ready to see me like this.”

The ghostly ruler let out a sigh, a mix of sympathy and frustration on his face. “Go back to the others, Cian. I will speak with Torin and his men first,” he quietly instructed, watching the doll nod and run back the way they had come. He put a hand to his forehead, keeping to the shadows as he tried to quell his annoyance to little avail. He was still quite tired, and his little victory in getting rid of the blue threat to his reign seemed far away now.

He pulled his hand away from his head to see his fingers had sharpened to claws. He squinted at this development, shaking his hand after a moment and willing it back to normal. His hand obeyed. He checked the other before he took a deep breath. Facing away from the group, he pressed himself to a tree to conceal his form better.

“Torin?” He called, keeping his voice carefully measured, “I am glad to see you, though I must warn you, the state you’ll find Subcon in is quite sorry.”

“P-prince Brendan?!” The older gentleman looked up sharply, looking around him as he tried to pinpoint the source of the voice, “Are you well? What of Cian? We were dispatched to find you immediately when we discovered you had never returned to your studies.”

The ghost sighed again, not seeing a way to bring the conversation to a more comfortable reveal of his state of being. “I…” he began, but found he could not finish the statement, “Perhaps it is better you see for yourself. A great tragedy has fallen upon the kingdom of Subcon, and upon myself as well.” He stepped from behind the tree and into the moonlight, “All at the hands of Queen Vanessa.”

Torin’s face turns quickly to a mask of shock, matching those of his men, as the shadowy image of Prince Brendan appears from the trees. Not one of the men can speak, the deafening silence only undercut by the sound of the ghost’s footfalls and the sound of the wind howling in the treetops. The spirit stops before them, holding his hands out with palms upturned at his sides, hoping to show he meant no harm.

“Queen Vanessa imagined I was unfaithful, and in her apparently incredibly sound decision-making as a ruler she had me chained in her cellar for it.” His anger flared up again and he found himself unable to keep from continuing his thought, “She left me there, my feet unable to so much as reach the ground for relief from the shackles cutting into my arms. She left me there to die.”

Torin and his men were white in the face, and the ghostly king was shaken from his anger by their unnerved expressions. “Ah, please, forgive me,” he apologized humbly, “this is all quite a recent development, but I do not intend to frighten you. I am still myself, just… less corporeal.”

He was doing a horrible job trying to ease things over with his guests and he knew it, hastily, he attempted to ease their concerns with promises of food and shelter. “Ah, follow me, please. I heard you mention the need for room and board, it would be my pleasure to offer you at least this much comfort.”

He turned, waving the panic-stricken men to follow him. They did as they were beckoned, but not without the occasional whisper amongst themselves. Even with his back to them, he could still hear their doubts in their whispering. To keep from hearing this and becoming angry once more, the ghost launched back into his story.

“The residents of Subcon suffered as I did,” he continues, “Vanessa’s power over ice proved deadly for all residents of the forest, as well as for Cian. I have returned them all to the realm of the living, of course, though I must warn you, they are not as you remember them.”

Torin made a strangled noise, “Cian! My brother- he- he is dead?” Forgetting his fright at the ghost of Prince Brendan, he ran up, grabbing the spirit’s arms to spin him around.

The ghost froze as pressure was applied to the places on his arms where once shackles had bitten into his skin, stumbling as he was forced to turn around. “Everyone.” The ghost confirms plainly, “She murdered us all.” As he watched the man fall to his knees some sympathy rose in the spirit, and he knelt to help Torin back to his feet.

“You need not despair so deeply, Torin,” he soothed, some softness finally finding its way to his voice, “I have brought back your brother, in fact he was the first I returned to this world. As soon as he is comfortable, he will meet you.” He looped Torin’s arm over his shoulder and helped the stunned man walk to one of the few homes that had survived the Queen’s destruction.

“Please, accept what little is left of warmth and safety here,” the ghost offers, gesturing the men into the home, “In the morning, I will give you a proper look around the kingdom.”

Satisfied that they were at least safe, he left the men to huddle in the building he had provided them, returning home to flop into his chair. He sighed irately, thinking over his introduction to Torin. All he had achieved was to frighten the man. He reached for his book and noticed his fingers were clawed again.

He decided to let them be. If changing his form would help him vent this anger, then let his form be changed. Hours passed as he read, going through the additional books of magic that the lighter spirit had provided him. Such a kindness, only to be repaid with his imprisonment. Funny how that happened so often.

When he finally put aside his reading, it should have been morning. No sunlight, however, streamed through his window. He stepped out of his home and looked to the sky, frowning deeply. The moon had not moved, it hung in the same place in the sky as when the lighter spirit had made his way to the Horizon. He clenched his clawed fists irately, dreading explaining this development to his already unsettled guests.

He began his walk to the home where he had allowed the men to stay, forcing his clawed hands back to their normal state. He tried to think of a calm and reasonable explanation for why the night wouldn't end on top of everything else that had befallen Subcon Forest. His explanations all fell flat in his mind, and he found himself scowling as he walked.

His sour mood was such that when a Subconite with the voice of a young woman came running down the path, shouting for his attention as she approached, he angrily snapped, "What is it?!" At her before reeling back from his startled subordinate and more calmly asking, "What can I do for you?"

"Cian!" She shouted, still in shock, "He tried to talk to his brother, and they-"

With a frustrated shout, the spirit took off before the woman could finish. Torin was Cian's own brother, but he had no trust in the bonds of love to protect one from harm anymore. He flew down the path faster than he had known he could, the sounds of men shouting getting louder as he made his approach.

The scene he found was nothing short of a nightmare. Torin stood over a quivering Cian, his men fighting amongst themselves. Some tried to hold back Torin, while others attempted to free him.

"You, you squeaking doll, are not my brother!" He screamed at Cian, who clearly would have been sobbing if his form allowed it. "Your lies will not fool me! I will not let such foul magic take root in Subcon!"

He had heard enough already. The ghostly king interposed, landing with a skidding halt between Cian and Torin, his burning yellow eyes locked on the living brother. "What is the meaning of this?!" He bellowed, his voice booming louder than he knew it could.

The men all cowered for a moment before Torin got back his nerve and stepped forward to face the angered spirit. “You!” He shouted, trying and failing to match the ghost’s volume, “I will not allow a dark spirit such as yourself to impersonate Prince Brendan! Your… your minion has said too much! This unending night, declaring yourself king, no doubt stealing the appearance of our prince, and heavens know what fate you’ve given fair Queen Vanessa! You may have deceived the residents of Subcon Village into signing your abhorrent contracts, but you will not convince me nor my men to concede to such deceitful terms!” Torin drew a ragged breath, “Do your worst, spirit! Take my soul and bind it to one of your wretched little dolls, more men will come from my kingdom to-”

“Enough!” The ghostly king bellowed, blue flames sparkling all over his form and beginning to encircle the group of men. Too late, Torin realized his mistake and backed away, only to fall into the fearful huddle his compatriots had formed. “Is that truly what you fools would like to believe?” He asked, an eerie cool settling into his voice, “That Queen Vanessa cannot be a monster, that your brother must not be dead, so I must be the monster, the liar, and all else the victim?”

“King Brendan…” The doll behind the spirit weakly protested, but the spirit continued on.

“If that is the case, then have your monster!” he shouted, fire and shadow mixing as he let his anger determine his form. He grew long and slender, his body becoming snakelike with two long, loosely defined arms that draped like ribbons out to two-clawed hands. His neck was adorned with a firelike mane, accentuating the spirit’s glowing yellow eyes and mouth. “I will give you one courtesy, not on my behalf, but for your brother’s sake. Run. Now. Weave your legend about me, tell everyone this is my forest, and I will defend it. I quite like part of your suggestion, too, I think I shall take the very soul from each and every intruder.”

Several of the men shrieked at the spirit’s sudden transformation, and all fled the moment the ring of fire surrounding them dissipated. They all fled save for Torin, who lingered a moment, casting an unreadable glance between ghost and doll. He turned to run, quickly gathering his cold weather supplies as he left.

The ghost pursued the men until they vanished into the snowstorm. Satisfied they would not come back, he turned his attention back to Cian, who was still cowering by the home he had lent. His doll body was badly damaged, fluff leaking from his midsection and leg where a serrated knife had messily cut through fabric. “Cian…” The spirit said softly, scooping the doll into his arms. “Did your brother do this to you?”

The doll could only nod, unable to find words.

“I will repair the damage, but I meant what I said. To protect us all, outsiders shall no longer be welcome in Subcon.” He narrowed his eyes and walked briskly down the path back to his old home, his anger now turned on the rest of the world. “As king, I will protect my kingdom. I will protect my forest.”


	11. The Nightmare of the Moonjumper

It was one of many times he had seen his princess nearly inconsolably upset.

“Vanessa, what is the matter?” The young prince ran up to his princess, taking her hand and pulling her head onto his shoulder. Thick as his favorite red coat was, her tears quickly soaked through the fabric protecting his shoulder. The salty water made its presence known with uncomfortable coldness.

“Mother,” she started to say, and prompted the prince’s look of concern to deepen, “the queen has been getting worse.” Vanessa broke into sobs again, and he gently stroked her hair before looking up to the servants around them in the garden. Their faces were all of care and concern, but in his heart he knew his princess must be suffering greatly under the weight of so many prying eyes.

“If you would, please leave us a moment,” He asked the servants kindly, the sunlight sparkling in warm hues of gold and red in his concerned brown eyes, “I believe my princess may need time to recover.” The servants nodded and left the garden, the royal couple then alone with the roses and the sounds of the wind. He continued to stroke her hair quietly until he was sure the servants had left earshot.

“My princess?” he asked, knowing she loved it most when he called her that. She breathed in heavily and returned to sobbing on his shoulder. Whatever the queen had done, it had affected her deeply. When his princess did not respond, he looked down at her and took a deep breath.

Though he did not remember what songs he had chosen now, he remembered singing several to her there in the sunny garden as the damp spot on his shoulder grew. In the middle of his serenade he gently pulled her down onto the grass, sitting with her on his lap, keeping her head gently on his shoulder as he held her and began a new song.

Finally, when she had cried herself dry, she pulled away from his shoulder, wiping her tears on her gloves.

“My princess?” he asked again, concern written plainly on his face.

“Mother, she,” Vanessa started, though she paused for a very long time here. The pause only worried the prince more, and he gently rubbed her back to encourage her to continue. “Mother locked me in- in my room,” she sobbed weakly, though her tears had truly stopped, “for much of the last two days, I was locked away.”

The prince had pulled his darling princess close again after that. It was when she said things so mild compared to her reaction that he worried the most, but he could wait to hear his love’s full story when she was ready to tell him. “You are free now, my princess,” he said softly, caressing her cheek and dropping his hand to hers, taking it gently into his warm grasp.

He sighed sadly, “Why must your mother always be her most cruel prior to my visits? Were I a more suspicious man, I would speculate that she agreed to our arrangement to torture you, and that I am the one thing she failed to control in your life!” He shook off his frustration and looked to the rosebush next to them, plucking a red blossom and gently tucking it into his love’s hair.

“My prince,” Vanessa had asked suddenly, startling him, “answer me truthfully: Do you love me?” Her hair fell over her eyes, though he could feel the weight of her gaze upon him. “We were arranged to be married when we were only children, so we have no choice but to be together, but,” She had crossed her arms a moment, then uncrossed them quickly as soon as her hands and arms met, “I simply… I must know what you truly feel for me.”

“V-Vanessa!” he startled, taking his princess’ hands in his own and looking her straight in the eyes. “My princess, I love you far, far more than I have words to describe. I spend my days at home talking over my plans for the next visit with you until both my older brothers and little sister become so tired of my lovelorn ramblings that the three of them storm the castle to find my tutor and beg him to give me a distraction!”

It had only been a slight exaggeration of the truth, and he was rewarded, finally, with a glimpse of her smile. “I have every intention of loving you until you are my queen and I your king,” he declared seriously, then with his best smile he continued in a theatrical lighthearted tone, “And together we shall grow old. Age shan’t touch your fairness, though it will silver your lovely hair to show the world you are as precious as the finest metals and gems. As for myself, I shall grow into the picture of the wizened regent and wear a monocle to read my official documents. I shan’t wear the thing because I need it, but because I shall like people to think my image is all the more wise for it!”

Vanessa laughed, though the sound was marred by the tightness of her throat from her crying. “My prince,” she said softly, leaning onto his shoulder again, “Will you promise… to always come back to me?”

“My princess!” He exclaimed, looking down at her with wide eyes, “Of course! Vanessa, I have done nothing but fall in love with you more with every moment since first we met. Even if I should be on the other side of the world, I shall return to you when you call for me.” As he looked at her with the utmost sincerity, Vanessa had collapsed into his arms.

“I love you, my prince.”

He had embraced her gently, stroking her golden hair as he spoke, “My dear princess, I too love you.”

His eyes fluttered open to the dim purple light inside the envelope of the Horizon’s strings. Trying to pinpoint any specific thread was dizzying as they danced and slid around each other, slinking of their own accord into different arrangements and to different destinations on his body. He tried to look down, to see if he was making the expected progress on his route to perfection, but his eyes met only another section of the swarming threads.

“Not done, imperfect. Continue. Remember, change, dream.” The voices swirled in his head as they urged him on.

He blinked among the strings, feeling hot liquid roll down his cheeks. Tears. Perfection was unattainable. The dark spirit had been right. In the face of that truth, what was the point of his efforts? Was it even worth his continued existence if he could never be good enough to save her?

“Continue,” the voices swirled again, “not done. Continue. Dream. Change.” Something about the voices was more forceful this time, and he felt his eyes closing, slipping into yet another unhappy memory.

He had been on his way to the mountains when the news reached him. Though he had longed to take in the sights, to make connections amongst the people of another culture that would help him when he became king, he had immediately halted his journey and turned back towards Subcon. Cian, blessedly, and a pair of his guards had agreed to join him, abandoning the royal carriage and the rest of the usual entourage in favor of four saddled horses with necessities packed in saddle bags.

They traveled light, and fast, for the Queen of Subcon had done the nigh unthinkable. She had broken his arrangement with his princess and declared her available to new suitors. The insult stung, but the ache for the woman he loved so dearly hurt so much worse. Surely, the cruel queen had waited intentionally for his trip.

Tears dried on his cheeks as he traveled, keeping the quickest possible pace without hurting the poor animal beneath him. He had not wanted to believe his suspicions of the queen’s ill-intent were true, but every detail fell into place too neatly. She had timed her announcement the way a seasoned general would time an attack. She had made an attempt to disgrace him by pointing out his magical ineptitude, utterly ignoring the vast knowledge he had worked so diligently to amass. He was, as he had theorized that day years ago in the garden, the one good thing in Vanessa’s life that she could not ruin. Now, she had found her way. Or, so she thought.

Determination filled his eyes as his traveling party surged forth. He would not allow distance nor malevolence to rob him of his beloved princess, and he would not allow Vanessa to fall into the wicked grasp of her mother without his embrace to shield her heart. Silently, he thanked the common folk who had emigrated from his own kingdom to settle in Subcon, their warning had been the only way he had known of the queen’s wicked scheme in time to have any hope of reaching his princess before the wicked woman began forcing her to pick a new suitor in his absence.

They had arrived in Subcon Village in the dead of night, the traveling party agreeing unanimously to trade for fresh horses and press on rather than staying in the last township before their destination. Under bright moonlight, he had crept around the manor until he was below his Princess’ window. Faint light peeked out from between the curtains. She was still awake. He silently thanked the universe for his luck.

“Vanessa!” He had called, loudly, but not so loud as to risk the Queen overhearing, as she was surely inside the manor as well. Neither of the two seemed to prefer life in the castle since the King had passed. “My princess, Vanessa!”

No response was offered, and the night was unusually cold, even with his favored coat he still felt goosebumps pricking upon his arms. He searched the ground, eventually finding a few small pebbles. “My princess!” he called again, lobbing a pebble up towards the window glass. He missed, and repeated the process until finally he was rewarded with one of the pebbles hitting a pane with a small click.

“Vaness-agh!” He only barely managed to dodge the spear of ice that had rocketed up from the ground. Magic. Elementally charged magic. He stared at it owlishly, for the royal line of Subcon was known to trend away from any specific magical preference. Finally, his princess appeared in the window, throwing the curtains aside and leaning out. “Leave my home!” she exclaimed, her eyes shut. He could tell she had been weeping. “Whoever is out there, you are trespassing on royal property!”

“My princess! Open your eyes!” He called, wanting desperately to be up with her to dry her tears.

Vanessa startled, wiping her tears on her glove. Her eyes fluttered open in pure shock. “My-my prince?! But mother-!”

“I made a promise to you,” he said firmly, “that I would always come back for you. Your mother may have ended our old arrangement, but I am here now to invoke my right as a prince to formally present myself as a suitor for your hand,” he grinned, his warm eyes sparkling mischievously, “if you would have me, of course.” He bowed to her, elegantly and dramatically, before looking back up to the window.

Vanessa was crying again, but this time he could see her smile under the tears. “Of-” she choked on her sobs, “of course I will have you! How on earth did you get here in time?”

He grinned, but worried their conversation might wake the queen. “The common folk passed on a warning to Torin, who passed it on to his brother, Cian, whom you already know as my attendant.” He looked to the ice spike that had nearly impaled him. “Did you do this? Do you think you can make the ice into steps for me? I fear we may wake the queen.”

His princess had complied, and they talked for hours that moonlit night, planning their new courtship, and how they would prevent the cruelty of the queen from impeding their love. His fair princess had been so happy that night. It only served to show just how much of a monster he must have been to let her fall so far back into her own misery.

For just a moment, he saw it in his mind. Floating, legless, unearthly blue skin, glowing features, eyes large and dark. Clothes not quite the same as how he had begun, ends in abstract repair from once tattered shapes. The creature’s head, roughly crescent-shaped with its horns of mismatched height. Teeth, sharp and threatening. Long, alien arms reached out from the monster as its three-fingered claws flexed. It was a monster befitting his title, Moonjumper.

A shock startled him awake, and he forgot the nightmare he had just envisioned. He had no time to check his progress, for the shock felt of the darker spirit that had split from Prince Brendan mixed with an unknown power. An immense unknown power. He looked down, calling Subcon into view. Sure enough, he saw his dark counterpart, holding a curious glowing hourglass that radiated the strange energy he had felt. The source of the disturbance was also apparent, as a giant version of the same object sat not far off, broken. He snickered quietly as he realized it must have broken upon the dark spirit to cause such a reaction.

He turned his attention elsewhere, looking for more of the strange hourglasses. Several were scattered across Subcon. A troubling circumstance, with how powerful they seemed to be. That was not the extent of the scattered objects. As he looked, he saw hourglass after strange hourglass, scattered to every region of the world. He finally came across a remote island, where another curiosity caught his eye. A little girl, diving from space itself. He watched, and she confirmed the strange hourglasses were indeed hers.

“Intriguing. Indeed, quite intriguing. This could be trouble for my fair Subcon,” he commented to himself, watching her progress, “and a prince has a duty to defend his people. I must continue my observation.”

“Imperfect,” the voices sang in again, “not done, dream, change!”

Their urgency was unusual, and prompted his quick retort, “Can you not see this is my duty as a prince? I shall continue my work after these utterly bizarre items are dealt with.”

The voices settled into an uneasy quiet, though they sometimes whispered in the back of his mind, and he returned to his observation of the strange child who had disturbed his work and worse, thrown powerful artifacts into his kingdom.


End file.
